Blam, Blam, Blam

Lyrics

[Intro: Conway the Machine] Yeah L-O-X I got 'em Machine, baby [Verse 1: Conway the Machine] Look Word to the coke that in my shooter nose (Sniff) Beluga 2.0s in the coupe I drove On the stoop in the cold movin' stupid O's Whip the fish before it even dried, deuce was sold Take a half, produce a whole when I use the stove Went from trappin' in Pelle jackets to rockin' Gucci clothes That's why when you see me I'm with a group of hoes Bad bitches that look like Karrueche, I'm used to those Bal Harbor shoppin', my pockets do be swole Cuban's gold Put my knife in your body, remove your soul Use your homie shirt to wipe my knife off His blood splattered on my Kith Moncler, I stabbed him twice more The fuck I'm takin' your advice for? When they cut mama lights off, I started sellin' white soft It's ironic the nigga they tried to write off was takin' the league by storm, I'm kinda like Moss Wake up in the mornin' to a blunted sour Then I'm up in lust, I'm makin' money shower You got money and respect, then you got fuckin' power I'm rich but I clap a nigga over a hundred dollars [Verse 2: Styles P] Where I'm from, you keep the hammer tucked Niggas is foul, fuck around and get your nana bucked Grimy niggas'll stick Santa up Kill Rudolph, then eat 'em, you couldn't manage us Why you think niggas is comatose? Homie gave the other homie mama bag, now he got mad Gotta kill 'em with the mag 'cause she overdosed If I gotta box, it's the 52 or the rope-a-dope Stuntin' in the drop Plottin' on the lot I could build on Cross me I'ma rock a nigga knot I ain't thinkin' like your average nigga I got carats off of carrots sellin' juice Peaceful yet a savage nigga You could lie about them Cartel ties Well I'm the type of guy to leave the Cartel tied Get the match and the gas, watch the Cartel die I'll catch 'em slippin' in the gym and let a barbell fly Break his face with a plate like the ghost did Charlie Murphy But I'm the real ghost, you ain't no Charlie Murphy Not in the comedic way I'm the one who make Paul and Peter pay 9 millimeter spray [Verse 3: Benny the Butcher] What you know about the trap bein' slow 'cause the grams bad? But the plug want his dough so you pay for your man half (I'll take care of that) .44 Bulldog makin' your pants sag I swim the swamp with a gator, I made it a handbag They tell me I'm how hope look Them pots had to slow cook Stack of paper on my kitchen table look like notebooks Two shooters with you? We know them niggas, they both puss Roll through and I let this toast cook like Rosewood Black Soprano family, I probably should make the movie Pray over a brick while I'm slidin' a razor through 'em Back to back trips now I got my bitch draped in Lou I'm known for rock and a guitar like David Bowie Yeah, I went against the FBI and crooked judges When rappers start losin' limbs you know the Butcher comin' Y'all still gassed off my rookie numbers This the kid that's from a block that did Westside Gunn hoodie numbers Uh, I grew to be a hustler but I ran with thieves (But I ran with thieves) You steal from the gang, I bet your hands'll bleed I met in a plug in the feds who used to hand me ki's We was like Donovan McNabb and Andy Reid Take me to your trap, I really autograph the plate I fuck around and put my signature on a bag of H Y'all niggas usin' 12 12's and call it stackin' cake When my niggas bag up, we usin' garbage bags and tape Let's go, agh